The Christmas Wish
by Scout3
Summary: Meg's fondest wish finally comes true


The Christmas Wish By Scout  
  
As usual, Inspector Meg Thatcher reported for duty early that morning. It wasn't as if she had much to go home to after all. Every night she'd return to the same empty apartment and the usual leftover meal quickly warmed in the microwave. She'd take a hot bath and unwind from the day's stress. It never ceased to amaze Meg how stressed she got just sitting behind a desk all day and filling out paperwork. She hated paperwork. She hated it to the point where she would often take out her frustrations on the people she worked with. She hated herself for doing it and yet she seemed powerless to stop it.  
  
When she'd first joined the RCMP she'd had silly romantic notions of grand adventures in exotic remote locales and daring government intrigue. Instead, she'd been shackled behind a desk and forced to endure office politics and sexual harassment. She'd been bitterly disappointed, not so much because of what had happened, but because in her naïveté she'd believed that the RCMP would be above such petty things.  
  
Still, in the interests of her career she'd persevered. She'd done her duty and she'd done it well, after all she'd made Inspector at a remarkably young age. She was proud of that achievement, despite the persistent rumors that had surrounded her promotion. She told herself that it was what men did to console themselves. It was far easier to believe that she had slept her way to the top rather than acknowledging that she just might be every bit as good as they were. After all, Meg knew the truth and she told herself practically everyday that it was all that mattered. Just once though, she would have liked someone else to acknowledge it as well.  
  
She sighed as she hung up her coat in the hall closet then headed off to the deserted kitchen. It was Christmas day. Everyone was off, everyone except Meg of course. Not that she'd really needed to come in to the Consulate today, still she told herself, it was better than sitting alone in her apartment eating a frozen dinner in front of the television. She hugged herself suddenly for warmth and turned up the thermostat. The Consulate seemed strangely uninviting without her junior officers around to fill up the silences. Without Fraser around. She missed him. She started the morning pot of coffee then stood leaning back against the counter, watching the amber liquid slowly drip into the pot with a wan smile.  
  
In a way, Meg had always felt a certain kinship with her second in command, even though she had never told Fraser that. She remembered when she had finally had enough of Henri Cloutier's unwanted advances; she'd threatened to file a formal letter of protest with the RCMP board of review if he didn't stop. Quicker than she could say big mistake, she'd found herself transferred out of Ottawa and exiled to Consular duty in America. It seemed Meg had grossly underestimated the man's power and her once fast career track had been unexpectedly, perhaps even permanently, derailed. It had been a bitter pill to swallow and yet, Meg had to admit that a tiny part of her was proud that she hadn't compromised her integrity in order to get ahead. She poured herself a cup of coffee and stirred in a little cream, then left the kitchen and started up the stairs to her office.  
  
So Meg's integrity remained intact, even if that fact did little to alleviate her hidden resentment. She'd been banished, but as she told herself often, at least she was in good company. After all, Fraser had been exiled to Chicago long before she was. He was one of the finest officers Meg had ever served with and it rankled her to know that he had been cast aside for simply doing what was right. She didn't know how just yet, but Meg had made a promise to herself that she would one day get back to Ottawa. She didn't care if she had to uncover a terrorist plot to poison the entire eastern seaboard. When she returned, it would be on her own terms and she planned to make sure that Fraser finally received the recognition he deserved as well. But, would he come with her, she suddenly wondered. .  
  
She hesitated at the foot of the stairs when she suddenly noticed a soft glow suffusing the hallway coming from the general direction of Fraser's office. Puzzled, she cautiously made her way down the corridor. The light was on in the tiny office and the door was ajar, so Meg gingerly pushed it open. Fraser had been busily filling out official forms in his meticulous hand when he suddenly caught sight of Meg. He abruptly stood up and noisily banged his shin against the edge of the desk. He grimaced slightly in pain and almost bent to massage his bruised leg, but apparently thought better of it and straightened to full attention instead.  
  
"Good Morning Sir." Fraser said crisply. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I wasn't expecting you in this early."  
  
Meg took in the oddly contradictory image of her second in command dressed casually in jeans and slate gray shirt while standing at rigid attention, with a bemused shake of the head.  
  
"At ease Fraser." She said more sharply than she'd intended. "Correct me if I'm wrong Constable, but aren't you supposed to be off today? What on earth are you doing here?"  
  
Fraser looked sheepish for a moment. "Forgive me Sir." He said apologetically. "I was just. My um. That is."  
  
Meg rolled her eyes. "Spit it out Fraser." she barked.  
  
"Sir." Fraser said. "I was just finishing up the supply requisition forms you'd mentioned last night."  
  
Meg's eyes narrowed to annoyed slits. "Let me get this straight Constable." She said slowly. "You came in to work at 7 o'clock in the morning on Christmas day to complete my paperwork for me?"  
  
Fraser looked down at his feet guiltily. "Yes Sir." He said softly.  
  
"Why?" She asked plaintively.  
  
Fraser suddenly looked up with a puzzled frown. "Because, no one should have to work on Christmas Sir."  
  
"Why not? You obviously are." Meg cried, exasperated.  
  
Fraser tilted his head slightly and rubbed his eyebrow with the back of his thumb for a moment.  
  
"Well yes, I suppose that's true Sir." He said thoughtfully. "But that's not the only. I also.what I mean to say is." Finally Fraser just gave up with a weary sigh and opened the top left-hand drawer to his desk. He withdrew a small festively wrapped package tied with an enormous gold bow and placed it down on the desk in front of him. "Here." He said simply.  
  
Meg eyed the package almost suspiciously, afraid to touch it.  
  
"Merry Christmas Sir." Fraser said gently, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Open it." He prodded after a while, when it seemed clear that Meg was not about to make a move on her own.  
  
She glanced from the box to Fraser and back again, not saying a word. Finally she picked it up and gingerly lifted off the bow tied lid. It was an exquisite cameo broach, delicately carved in translucent mother of pearl.  
  
"Fraser." Meg started, her voice momentarily failing her. "This is, this is beautiful."  
  
"It was my mother's" Fraser said softly.  
  
Meg's eyes widened slightly. "Fraser, I can't accept this." She said, shaking her head and replacing the lid on the box.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It's too much." She sighed suddenly. "Something like this, you should be giving it to someone you really care about."  
  
"I did." Fraser said. "I gave it to you."  
  
"Fraser."  
  
"Please." Fraser said, stepping around the desk and once again opening the box. "I want you to have it." He took the cameo and gently pinned it to Meg's collar.  
  
"It suits you." He said, smiling wanly.  
  
Meg tried to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. She averted her eyes to keep from losing herself in his glacial blue gaze. God he smelled good, like a crisp January morning after a fresh snowfall. She fixed her gaze on the plain gray of his shirt, covering his smooth pale chest. She shook her head, focusing instead on his neck, the way it gently curved into the broadness of his shoulders. Finally, she just gave up and closed her eyes.  
  
"Is something wrong Inspector?" Fraser asked suddenly, an edge of concern creeping into his voice.  
  
Meg licked her lips nervously. "Fraser do you remember that.incident I asked you never to mention again?"  
  
"Incident Sir?" Fraser innocently asked.  
  
Suddenly, Meg couldn't take his close proximity any longer. She tilted her head up and before she'd even fully realized what she was doing, she found her lips covering his in a passionate kiss. Fraser's initial shock quickly wore off and Meg could feel his body melting into hers, returning the kiss. His sweet lips softened, parting slightly, inviting her to taste him. Meg's eyes abruptly flew open and she hastily pushed him away staggering across the room to lean against the file cabinet and catch her breath.  
  
Fraser stayed where he was, panting slightly, eyeing her in confusion.  
  
"Why did you do that?" She asked finally, perfectly aware that she had been the one who'd initiated...contact between them. What's more she knew Fraser knew it too but was too much of a gentleman to admit it.  
  
"I." He stammered slightly. "I thought you wanted me to."  
  
She dropped her gaze to the floor, once again forcing her breathing under control.  
  
"You must think I'm very.cold." She said softly, still staring at the floor.  
  
"No I don't."  
  
"Well, I don't see why not." She said bitterly. "Everyone else does."  
  
"No they don't"  
  
Meg looked up sharply. "Your friend Ray refers to me as the "Ice Queen" doesn't he?"  
  
Fraser's mouth snapped shut and he began to shuffle his feet uncomfortably.  
  
Meg smiled bitterly. "I'll bet the other Ray had some cute little nickname for me as well." She said sourly. "What was it? Cold Bitch?"  
  
"It doesn't matter." Fraser said softly.  
  
"Polar maiden?"  
  
"It doesn't matter." Fraser said again, a little more loudly this time.  
  
"Dragon Lady?"  
  
"Meg!" The Mountie said sharply. "It doesn't matter. None of that matters. So they don't understand you, so what? It's not important. The only thing that matters is that I know the truth."  
  
Meg eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "Oh? And what truth might that be Constable?" She asked sharply.  
  
With a tiny bit of guilty satisfaction, Meg could tell that the significance of addressing him by his official title had not been lost on him. Fraser tensed slightly, but refused to be put off so easily.  
  
"That you hold people at arms length to keep from being hurt." He said very softly.  
  
She almost yelled at him. She almost screamed 'How dare you!' at him and slapped him across the face, but she didn't. She didn't, because she suddenly wasn't sure if he was talking about her or himself.  
  
Instead she smiled wanly and said, "funny thing about that is your arms get so tired after awhile."  
  
Fraser returned the smile. Suddenly, Meg felt the need to connect with this man whom she'd always felt an affinity toward, on a more personal level. She needed to know something about him that no one else knew, not something that she could get from a personnel file. Something that would help her to understand who Fraser really was.  
  
"Fraser," she said breathlessly. "If you could wish for anything, anything in the world, what would you wish for?"  
  
Fraser leaned against the desk and considered the question carefully for several minutes.  
  
"One Christmas Eve when I was five years old," He began at last. "my Dad and I found the perfect tree about a half mile from our house. We chopped it down, and he let me sit on his shoulders while we sang Christmas Carols on the way back. My Mum and I made popcorn strings by the fire and trimmed the tree and Dad placed the star on top. Then I sat in my mother's lap by the fire and we drank warm mulled cider while my Dad read The Night Before Christmas to us, until I fell asleep with her arms around me."  
  
Fraser stopped speaking for a moment, a far away look in his eyes. "That was the last Christmas we were all together." He said with a sad smile. He looked at the tears glistening in Meg's eyes and gently brushed them away with his thumb. "If I had one wish," he murmured softly. "I'd wish for it to always be that day."  
  
He looked down at his feet, suddenly embarrassed. "What about you? what would your wish be?"  
  
Meg smiled, kissing him gently on the lips, only this time she didn't push him away. Their lips parted for a moment and Meg caressed Fraser's pale cheek, then her fingers playfully traced the curve of his ear.  
  
"I just got it." she said softly, before smothering Fraser's soft laugh with another kiss.  
  
The End 


End file.
